


Computer Clicks and Gunfire

by Satan (CherryBones)



Series: One Little Backwards World [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Hacker!Ryan, M/M, Mercenary!Gavin, Rating subject to change, RoleSwap Au, this is gonna be so fluffy, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's just a simple hacker, doing what he needs to do for money. Until, of course, the Fake AH Crew comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smitten

Ryan figured out a long time ago he wasn’t good with guns. He couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn if he _tried_ , and he had. He’d tried many times. So many times. It was a little embarrassing really. Every time he went to a range he unfailingly got sent away with a gentle pat on his back and encouragement to move out of the city because he was, and they meant this, ‘unteachable’. And Los Santos was no place to be for such a person.

He kept living there anyways. After all, there was other things he could do for money, things he didn’t even have to leave his comfy little apartment to do. After all, there was _always_ someone in that godforsaken city that needed access somewhere. Usually illegally. And so that’s what he did.

He hacked for a living. All anonymous, all over email or through encrypted and altered phone calls. No one saw his face, he was smart like that. He could enjoy his rare trips outdoors without worrying about being caught. A lonely existence, sure, but that was fine. He was fine.

Until, of course, the Fake AH Crew showed up.

It was like they came out of nowhere. One second they weren’t anything he’d ever heard of, no one of importance, and the next thing he knew they were running Los Santos. The police files, when he finally got interested enough to hack them, held the strangest stories of heists gone both right and wrong, arrests for everything from robbery to public indecency but nothing could stick. The files didn’t have names though, only aliases. They seemed to have their hands everywhere, and it was only a matter of time before he got noticed. He was the go to guy for hacking, no loyalty, always up for a job with the highest bidder, a vagabond that existed between crews. The image it gave him, of some faceless, possibly maniacal entity made him giggle. It made him seem so hardcore, not the soft muffin of a man who had too many plants that all had names and always helped Mrs. Johnson down the hall with her groceries.

Thinking about it, Mrs. Johnson probably seemed like more of a danger than he did. At the very least she owned a shotgun, he’d fumbled with helping her clean it once. She’d laughed and added herself to the list of people who told him to move away from the city to somewhere safer.

Ryan didn’t own any guns. With how terrible he was, they were a greater danger to him than anyone else.

At any rate, it was only a couple weeks after they gained traction that they contacted him. He absently wondered if they’d gotten his number by torturing someone as the person on the other end of the phone laid out their offer. Only repeat clients had direct access to him like that, jobs normally found him through proxies or rumors otherwise. He’d probably have to get a new phone and number again if enough people knew it to be handing it out. But for now, the pay was good and the job was easy, so he accepted. The crewmember on the phone made sure to inform him that the voice modifier he had in the phone made him sound really disturbing. Ryan felt pretty proud about that.

He couldn’t help but watch the surveillance feed of the bank they heisted a week later, curious to see what they did with the vault code he’d given them. It was like watching a movie, a movie with really shitty quality and slight lag but a movie all the same. They were all wearing masks but he could tell there was five of them in the robbing team. The outside cameras showed him a sniper on the opposite roof and a getaway car parked outside. Three people, all in masks, poured out of the car and barged into the bank, causing immediate chaos. Switching to the inside cams, he mourned the lack of audio as people dropped to the ground. They were fast and efficient and looked like they were having a good time. The one with the shock of red hair’s shoulders were shaking like he was laughing, the one in the _actual literal tuxedo_ ’s posture loose and relaxed and almost sleepy as he aimed his gun at a teller’s head, the man racing to throw money into a bag. The third had disappeared, theoretically to use his code and raid the vault. Deciding that there was nothing more to see in the lobby of cowering people, he shifted to the vault camera. The quality was somewhat better but there was a greater delay, the door already unlocked and swung open by the time it loaded for him. He frowned, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. He’d really wanted to see them use his code. It made him feel like a part of the action. The guy was stuffing money into bags, using tiny charges to blow the locks off the lockboxes inside. Weirdly, he was wearing a different mask from the others, his face and hair hidden behind a black grinning skull mask. The quality was too bad for him to see through the eyeholes of the mask, but the desired effect was still the same. The guy’s blue button-down was streaked with dried red, stains that had not made it out. He didn’t seem that big, actually on the shorter side and definitely rail thin, but Ryan couldn’t help a little shiver, the guy looked super creepy and intimidating through the feed all the same. He debated making the camera zoom in in hopes of seeing better, but then he was zipping up the bags, heading back for the lobby. By the time he switched back cameras, they were already heading through the door. Their car was already gone by the time the cops showed up.

Ryan couldn’t help but be impressed.

He did actually change his number after that, continuing on with his life the way he had before the crew appeared in his city, the way he was certain he could after their crew disappeared like all the crews eventually did, but they found his new number again almost as soon as his regulars found his number again. He didn’t put the effort into changing it this time. It probably was better for everyone.

The Fake AH Crew, he found, was fun to watch. They paid well and their jobs were always interesting. The footage, whether he watched it live or on the evening news, was always worth the popcorn he made for it.

It was four months and half a dozen jobs before he actually wound up on the receiving end of one of their heists. Statistically, he had beaten the odds by a huge amount. Personally, he knew it was really just because he really just did _not_ like to go out and as such, never did. But he’d run out of Diet Coke and he had an all-nighter looming ahead of him. It’d been an emergency. It was just meant to be a quick drop by the gas station, no more than five minutes at best. But then the Roosevelt he’d come to recognize came screeching up in front of the doors right as he stepped into the aisles to search for his sugary lifeblood. Self-preservation tactics from his childhood kicked out of latency and he ducked down before anyone could see him, scrambling to the other end of the aisle and hiding behind the frighteningly large cookie display. Curiosity killed the cat though, so he peeked out around the edge to watch as they pushed through the doors, guns pointed at the clerk, who threw his hands over his head almost instantly. Ryan had to bite down on his hand to prevent the startled laugh that bubbled up in his throat. There was two in the store now, the one in the tuxedo and the one in the aviator’s jacket, and their masks were paper bags. _Actual literal paper bags with eyeholes cut in them_. Had they not been holding some really over the top weaponry, they would have looked ridiculous. And their weapons seriously were over the top, like, the one in the jacket carrying a _fucking minigun_ level of over the top. The tuxedo guy stepped forward, and for the first time, Ryan heard one of the crew speak.

It wasn’t what he expected.

The guy’s voice was a lot higher than he imagined first off, and it cracked solidly down the middle as he spoke, very nearly ruining any intimidating factor he may have had. But again, gun. A big scary fifty caliber pistol pointed directly at the poor clerk’s face. That was bound to keep anyone terrified. It also made Ryan really happy that he’d been smart enough to hide, and really nervous of what would happen if he got caught. Without realizing it, he held his breath.

“Everything you got, thanks.”

The cashier scrambled to comply, throwing open the cash register and throwing the money into a bag. The guy in the jacket turned to wander the aisles as the bag was filled, plucking snacks from the shelves and stuffing them into his pockets. Ryan shrunk a little more behind the display as the guy approached, panic starting to build. He was going to be close enough to see Ryan hiding if he looked around soon. And then he was going to die. Hysterically, he wondered what would happen to his plants when he was dead. He hoped Mrs. Johnson would take them in.

The door dinged as it opened again.

“Mogar! Didja find the chocolate?”

That was a new voice. A voice Ryan kinda liked, though maybe that was the hysteria. British, sounded like. The guy in the jacket turned to the door, away from Ryan, and Ryan’s gaze followed him. Hanging halfway through the doorway was the guy in the skull mask, shirt stained the same way it always was in the feeds. But this time there wasn’t any shitty quality getting in the way of his view. The blood still looked fresh, making the shirt cling to the fit body beneath it, and Ryan could see his eyes now. Manic blue eyes that were lit up with excited glee.

He was kind of instantly smitten.

“Vav! Yeah, I did.”

“Sweet! Gimme it!”

The guy in the jacket, Mogar, tossed the chocolate to him just as the cash register slammed shut. The skull mask guy, Vav, held the door open for them as they ran through it. Ryan watched as they jumped back into the Roosevelt and it peeled off. The romantic in him felt like his heart had leapt out of his chest and off with them. He stood up numbly, standing in silence with the clerk for a few minutes before sheepishly finding the Diet Coke and paying the clerk, who looked just as shellshocked, though probably for different reasons.

He made sure to leave a big tip for the poor guy.

There was no memory of driving home, of bringing his new boxes upstairs. He simply slumped into his couch, staring dumbly at the wall.

Fuck.

_Fuck._


	2. Luck

He couldn’t help but find working with the Fake AH Crew a little awkward after that. Not just because he was utterly smitten for their resident skull-masked mercenary, but because they’d shattered his expectations a little, in both good and bad ways.

One of the added benefits of never meeting clients face to face was the fact that no one could intimidate him. No one knew what he looked like, no one knew what he sounded like, none of his tech was traceable, and all of his money transactions were bounced across the globe a dozen times before making it back to him. No one had anything to hold onto him with. If he didn’t like a job, they couldn’t do anything to stop him from turning it down. And there was all a reason behind this. A very simple and sensible reason. The fact that Ryan was absolute shit when it came to intimidation.

Ryan knew he wasn’t exactly a forceful personality. As a kid he’d mostly relied on the fact that he was taller and broader than most other kids to get him through situations, but some people unfortunately had known that all it took was one aggressive step before Ryan was flinching back, spouting apologies like a fountain. He’d gotten better, or at least he liked to think so, especially since occasionally people had attempted to bully him into a lesser pay or something similar over the phone and he’d had to remind them who actually had the power in their conversation. But that was behind a voice modifier and a phone and a virtually bottomless pit of encryptions. In real life, in face to face situations, he wasn’t all that great. He couldn’t even get discounts on things when he went to stores because he would fumble to answer the question or hand over the coupon, feeling like he was cheating the store out of money. The rare trip to a restaurant usually ended in a fairly sizeable tip for the wait staff, even if they were super polite to the poor stuttery guy hiding in the back of the booth. Especially if they were super polite to the poor stuttery guy hiding in the back of the booth.

So actually seeing the Fake AH Crew in action meant he knew intimately, if not exactly first hand, how intimidating they were. Bringing a minigun to a fucking gas station robbery would create that impression. Despite the other memories of the ridiculous voice crack or how young the redheaded guy looked from the side, they still scared him. It was hard to remember to keep his voice steady when they made deals with him, to not let himself fumble his words or stutter. Thankfully the voice that always called him for the deals was not one he recognized from the gas station.

And still, despite the intimidation and fear he felt now and again, the way he twitched whenever he heard a sudden noise for a week afterwards, one of the hardest parts was the fact that he totally had a thing for the skull-masked man. Vav, that’s what the redhead, Mogar, had called him. It was an alias, obviously, but it was enough to determine which police file was his. Like the others, the files had no complete photos despite arrest records. He suspected a different hacker or maybe just simple sabotage from a crooked cop. The information was all there though, everything but a name. Everything the LSPD had tried to make stick. Apparently he was the resident crazed murderer of the group. All things considered, that should have turned Ryan off from him.

Unfortunately, it didn’t. In fact it pretty much did the opposite. Watching the footage for heists or jobs when he could led to memories of an excited British lilt and maniacal blue eyes. Popcorn was joined by the occasional awkward erection and cold shower. It’d go away eventually, that’s what he told himself.

For a month afterwards, he had no such luck. If anything, it got worse. The jobs came in more often and he always took them despite himself. A semi-rational part of him pointed out it was probably really unhealthy for him to do that. The rest of him just repeated the fact that it was good money, awkward and trying to seem tough. On one memorable occasion he’d heard the lilt in the background of a phone call with his liaison in the team and he’d panicked, hanging up. It’d taken a few minutes of wallowing in his shame before he’d managed to work up to call back and claim a dropped connection. The modifier made him seem like he was telling the truth, he hoped, and the person on the other end seemed to buy it. He whined out all the rest of his shame and embarrassment to his plants later, absently petting one of his succulents’ leaves. It reminded him why he liked plants over people most days. Plants didn’t judge. Plants didn’t pity him. Plants were just happy that they got watered and talked to.

He picked up a new orchid that weekend, and he named it Edgar. Edgar was a nice name. He decided that if he ever got an actual pet, he’d name it Edgar.

Maybe Edgar the second. After all, he’d just named the plant that.

Ryan existed in this weird limbo for another few weeks, taking jobs and talking to his plants and being nervous and twitchy and on edge. He avoided going back to the gas station and only ever went out late at night. He knew from all the jobs he’d taken that the Fake AH Crew rarely ran night jobs. They preferred the day, where everything could be seen.

Life hated his sorry ass though, so of course during one of his little desperate romps out for late night groceries, he’d gotten a call from the crew. Probably an offer. He ignored it in favor of debating what freezer meals he wanted for the next few weeks of isolation in his apartment. Eventually the call stopped, then they called again. And again. And again. Tired and stressed out and hungry, he answered on the fifth attempt, hissing out very quietly and very concisely that he was busy and they better _hurry the fuck up_ with an explanation. For a second he actually felt kind of scary, something he would revel in later when he wasn’t so pissy. The liaison started into an explanation of a last second job that they needed his help with ASAP when the PA speaker came on, blaring about a sale. Startled, he dropped the phone, sending it cracking against the floor with the battery popping out and going skittering down the aisle. He snatched it up quickly, cursing angrily as he chased down the battery. He snapped it back in, leaving the phone off until he’d checked out and gotten into his car. It took a few deep breaths for him to stop grumbling and turn the phone back on. The call was picked up on the second ring and he very succinctly told them that he would take the job and would have what they needed within the next few days before hanging up again and throwing his phone into the passenger’s seat with an aggravated sigh. This was his life. Dropping his phone like a dumbass at the fucking _supermarket_ while trying to seem like some badass. There went his self-esteem for the next few days. He ran his hands through his hair and turned the keys in his ignition, heading home.

Edgar the orchid got a lot of love that night as Ryan drank his way through the only bottle of whiskey in his apartment, bemoaning the joke that was his life.

He did the job the next day despite his painful hangover, got his pay, put the internal embarrassment of how dumb he looked to the other people at the market behind himself

Turned out though, being stressed all the time was not very good for your health. Neither was super late night half-awake store adventures or getting drunk off your ass when you never otherwise drank. Because it wasn’t even two days when he got sick. Not just a cold or something simple, oh no, of course not. His luck dictated that he get his ass handed to himself by a bug that kept him mostly confined to his bed for nearly a week, unable to look at any form of screen without a headache nearly three times as bad as the hangover. He was pretty sure his work phone was dead. The criminal world wasn’t going to collapse without him though, so he didn’t bother to keep vertical long enough to find the plug for it. Day six he felt well enough to stand up and go see if he could stomach something a little more substantial than microwaved ramen and instant soup. He’d barely put his meal in the microwave when someone knocked on his door. With a tired sigh he went to it, rubbing beneath his glasses as he pulled it open, his voice thick with sickness and sleep.

“Mrs. Johnson I don’t think-”

His eyes focused, hand dropping away from his glasses.

The person in front of his door wasn’t Mrs. Johnson or her groceries. Instead it was a duo, a wild-haired woman in a gaudy hawaiian shirt and a man in a tuxedo with a sleepy smile, tattoos scrawling over his hands before disappearing up his sleeves.

He recognized the tattoos and the tuxedo. The woman smiled.

“Hi, you must be Ryan.”

It was the voice from the phone.

Ryan squeaked and slammed the door shut.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's two am. I'm so tired.


	3. Cursed

Hindsight is 20/20 and that hit Ryan pretty hard after the door was shut. Slamming the door in the face of _dangerous criminals_ was probably never a good idea. He might have just severely shortened his allotted lifespan. Swallowing thickly, he measured his options. There were no weapons in his house, at least none that could match up to the guns they were probably carrying. And it wasn't like there was any back exit. He didn't live on the ground floor and he'd chosen his apartment for its balcony and large windows that would give his plants plenty of light, not because there was any escape route within any reasonable distance. Hell, he wasn't even sure where the fire escape was. He let out a weak sound. This was how stupid people died in the movies Haywood! If he survived this, he was absolutely finding out where the dumb fire escape was. Or moving to Guam. Something along those lines. Border police wouldn't confiscate his plants if he moved, right?

A soft knock echoed from the door again, the woman's voice muffled a little.

"Ryan? I know how it looks but we aren't here to hurt you. We wanted to check on you."

And that? That stopped his panicked train of thoughts, bringing him to a rather sudden halt. It didn't make any sense. Criminals only tracked people down if they wanted them dead, or was that just in the movies? He’d never actually had any true face to face interactions with any, so he didn’t have any experience to judge. They hadn’t shot him through the door yet though, so that was something.

Against his better judgement, he cracked the door open, leaning his weight against it like that would stop two murderers intent on getting inside. He wasn't fit, he didn't work out and he lived mostly off soda and cheap freezer meals, the little bit of chub around his belly and thighs attesting to that fact. If they wanted into his apartment, he wasn't going to be able to stop them. He made yet another to himself that if he survived, he was going to the damn gym. Ryan braced himself in case of imminent death.

But they didn't shove the door down, didn't try to get past him. It didn't even look like they'd moved from where they'd been standing the first time he'd opened the door. They both smiled a little wider when they saw him peeking through the door crack. Had he not been practically shaking with terror, they might have seemed like friendly smiles. The woman spoke up.

"Can we come inside?"

Instincts telling him it would be a bad idea to refuse the scary criminals now that they could easily get to him, he nodded, opening the door enough for them to brush inside. He shut the door quietly behind them, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep them from seeing his nervous shaking. He shouldn't have bothered. They were looking around his apartments, at the plants that littered almost every surface, and the moment the guy in the tuxedo grabbed a leaf on one of his poor succulents a little roughly he let out a noise of protest, a noise that cracked and jumped an octave the moment it left his throat, leaving him blushing and ruining any remaining dignity he might have had. They both glanced at him with a chuckle on their lips.

He ducked his head and went to go gently pet Edgar's petals instead of trying to pretend he was tough, keeping a wide berth from the two. Thankfully, they didn't touch his plants again. The woman finished examining his apartment before turning her sharp eyes on him. He squirmed under her gaze, shuffling a little bit more behind his pretty orchid as if the thin plant could hide him. She smiled warmly.

"You aren't what I expected over the phone. With your modulator and how careful you were, I expected some guy from a Bond movie."

"Or a nerd. You don't have a pocket protector do you?"

She reached over and lightly smacked the tuxedo guy's arm with a gentle admonishment of 'Geoff'. Ryan instinctively filed the name away for later. The smile was turned back onto him and she stepped forward, hand out. He froze up but she waited patiently until he shook it, blush flaring up with quite possibly the _weakest_ handshake he'd ever given. She chuckled and he wanted to melt into the floor.

This was why he didn't talk to people if he could manage it.

"I'm Jack Pattillo. The asshole over there is Geoff Ramsey.”

She didn’t let go of his hand. Which was smart because the moment he registered the name his eyes widened and his body tensed in yet another debate over whether or not he could make it to the door alive. He didn’t need to file away that name, he knew the name well. Fuck, everyone knew who Geoff Ramsey was. He and his crew had run Liberty City like gods and all of them had been on the FBI’s most wanted list at least once. But what was he doing in Los Santos? The RT Crew had still been going strong last he checked. The tuxedo guy, fucking _Geoff Ramsey_ , grinned at him dangerously and the woman, Jack, tightened her grip so he wouldn’t run. She let go of his hand once he relaxed enough to indicate he wouldn't bolt and he retracted it, rubbing it like she'd hurt him. Geoff answered the unspoken question.

"Wanted to strike out on my own. Lots of fresh blood in Los Santos."

He shivered a little, wrapping his arms protectively around himself and feeling very very small. Ryan kind of wanted to keep his blood where it was if he could. His voice faltered and failed the first time he tried to speak, so he cleared his throat to try again.

"How did you guys find me?"

Jack laughed brightly and he really wished she hadn't because it did nothing to soothe him. Literally nothing. If anything it put him more on edge. He fought down the terrified whine that bubbled up behind his lips like a poison.

"The last job you took from us. Even with a modifier I still recognize a store PA when I hear one. Didn't take much to figure out what store and convince them to look at their feeds and find the guy who dropped his phone. They got your license plate from the outside cameras and one of our friends gave us your address when we gave him that. So we came over to see if you were still alive. You stopped answering any calls after the last job."

Geoff piped up with his own two cents, wandering into his kitchen and back out a second later.

“We figured you’d either skipped town or had wound up dead. Both are kinda dicks for us, so glad you’re still here and all that shit.”

Of course. Of fucking course.

He was cursed, he was absolutely cursed. He didn’t bother to muffle his weak groan this time, face reheating to its previous embarrassed red. A stupid fucking slip and now his home had notorious criminals in it.

"I got sick."

"We can tell. It's why Geoff is fucking around back there. He's an utter bitch about getting sick."

Ramsey let out a noise of protest but didn't do anything more, didn’t reprimand his crew member like Ryan knew other crews would for talking so bluntly about the boss. Ryan suddenly got the impression that Geoff wasn't the true brains behind the Fake AH Crew.

“Oh...”

They labored into silence for a second, Ryan fighting the ridiculous urge to pick up Edgar and hold the delicate flower close, putting the pot between him and them again. He didn’t though. He swallowed around his fear and managed to punch out another weak sentence.

“Why...Why’re you still here then?”

That made them both light up. Ramsey flopped onto Ryan’s old couch, sinking into the seat and throwing his arms across the back. Ryan caught sight of the fifty caliber he’d seen before tucked into a holster on his side. He didn’t look like he had a care in the world as his sleepy eyes locked in on the fidgeting hacker.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious dude. We want you to join the Fake AH Crew.”

Ryan’s world froze, tilted on its hinges, then shattered.

“I’m sorry?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again. I fucking hate writing dialogue. It makes me feel like I'll fuck up the characters. At any rate, things are starting to kick up!


	4. Overwhelming

“Ryan. Ryan? Ryan, we’re here.”

He let out a soft broken whine of a noise, pushed as far back into his seat as he physically was capable, knuckles white against his seatbelt. His eyes were shut tight, too-bright starbursts popping against the black due to the sheer force he was putting into keeping them that way. A laugh bubbled up somewhere in front of him, wheezy and bright and just a little manic, presumably Geoff.

“I think you broke him Jack.”

“Well at least we know he wasn’t acting anything up back at his apartment.”

There was the click of a seatbelt and then thin calloused fingers with perfectly manicured nails at the end were prying his hands free of his own belt. Hesitantly assuming this wasn’t some cruel trick, Ryan finally opened his eyes just the tiniest bit to confirm that they were indeed parked and not about to take off again. He wasn’t sure his poor terrorized heart could handle it if it was all a ruse. Thankfully though, they were indeed stopped on the side of the road, Jack turned away from the wheel to try to free that part of her car from his grasp. She smiled warmly when he finally released the hand she hadn’t gotten to yet, the zip of the retreating belt a little too loud in Ryan’s ears. He tried to take a modicum of comfort from the smile, but it was kind of hard considering she was also the person that had almost just killed him through the most terrifying car ride he’d ever been a part of.

Maybe he would just start walking everywhere. He wasn’t sure he could get back in a car once he managed to get himself out of this one. The other two got out of the car and he was grateful when Jack popped open the door, his hands absolutely shaking too much for him to manage the handle. Ryan practically fell out of the car, only just managing to catch himself on the door and straighten up, his legs feeling like jelly. Geoff laughed again, giving him a hard pat on the back and nearly sending him reeling. He weakly noticed that the crime lord was still maintaining a quarantine distance aside from the pat.

“You’re alive dude, enjoy that fact. And I think you made Jack feel happy about her driving. The rest of us aren’t really that bothered by it anymore when she goes all ‘crazy racecar driver’ on us like that. Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen often.”

So, Geoff Ramsey? Not great with comforting people with his words. Ryan was coming to realize this. He was getting a good idea as to why Jack was always the one on the phone. Or she had been. He wasn’t sure now.

Once he felt like he could actually walk, Ryan made a gesture towards the huge building above them and they nodded, leading the way. He kept a little behind, keeping his hands in the pocket of his sweater. He hadn’t really been given a chance to change.

They filed into the elevator and it began to climb. Ryan watched the ground shrink away through the glass and felt a little nauseous again. This building was a lot higher than his own. He’d be a splat on the ground if they threw him off the roof.

They wouldn’t. Probably. He wasn’t really all that ready to trust them yet despite any assurances they gave him.

The ding echoed on the top floor, the doors sliding open. Once again, he shuffled a few steps behind the other two, following them through a door to an absolutely _stunning_ penthouse. He may have stared a little. Jack smiled.

“You alright there?”

He said the first thing that came to mind.

“I could have so many plants here.”

Geoff broke down in laughter, drawing the attention of the other people in the apartment, who Ryan now noticed. Three of them. The shock of red hair Ryan recognized from cameras and from the gas station, something he’d yet to bring up. The purple hoodie ticked at a memory of a sniper positioned across the street from a heist, meshing with the garish bright pink of a sniper rifle.

The third…

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. The blood-stained button down was still there, but the mask was gone. But instead of the mask there was facepaint. White over most of his face with a slash of red across his eyes, black dragging over his lips and down from his eyes, mixed together into a shady gray across his cheeks, all of it artfully chaotic and just as intimidating as the mask.

And Ryan, regrettably, found it _really fucking hot_.

He let out a pitiful little whimper, trying to hide behind Jack. Thankfully, they took it as fear and his baggy clothes covered any reaction his body may have had, the betrayer that it was.

“Goddammit Gav, don’t scare the new kid.”

The man in question that grinned, the painted lips splitting to reveal too many too-white teeth and he shrunk just a little more.

He was so going to die. From embarrassment if nothing else. The fact that when Jack glanced back at him in amusement she also had to look _up_ to him because, oh yeah, he was a grown ass adult and taller than her, didn’t really help.

The redhead spoke up, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“This guy’s the guy who we’ve been using to hack stuff for the last six months? He looks like a dad. He’s even wearing the dad jeans.”

Geoff snorted.

“Yeah, we’re sure. Be nice assholes, he’s part of the crew now.”

Ryan mumbled something about the fact that technically, he’d never really been given a choice, and the others laughed, having apparently heard it. The tough demeanor of the three melted away, the laughs only getting louder when he blushed bright red from it all. Jack rolled her eyes and smiled, giving his sleeve a little tug.

“We really know how to pick them. C’mon Ryan, let me show you around. You can get introductions when they’re able to breathe again.”

He nodded, following after her like a lost puppy as she gave him the rundown of the frankly massive penthouse and all the things within. The extra room they had if he wanted to move in was arguably larger than his own apartment now, and his apartment wasn’t _that_ small. She explained that this was where most of them spent the grand majority of their time, if not lived there, and it was also where most of the heists were planned. She also explained what it meant to be a part of their crew.

“This means you work just for us. You shut off all of your old connections with other crews and gangs. You’ll have to ask Geoff about freelance jobs _if_ they don’t wind up fucking us in the ass at a later point. And you don’t betray anyone. You’re crew, you’re family. You betray that, a little ride in my car isn’t going to be the worst thing that happens to you. Got it?”

The placidly sweet smile she gave him with that made him scramble to nod his head.

“Good. Feel free to take a nap or just wander around. Everyone’ll say hi later, I’m sure.”

And then she left him. Ryan, overwhelmed and processing and overall just a little in disbelief of the last few hours of his life, made his way over to a dark corner of the room and slumped down into it, staring at nothing.

This was his life now. He was part of the Fake AH Crew, for better or for worse.

He was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eugh, dialogue. Poor plant dad. He's so awkward.   
> Also this didn't turn out 100% how I wanted it but I blame sleep-deprivation and ADD so blame those not me.


	5. Adapting

Ryan considered himself an adaptable type of guy. Not necessarily a social person but an adaptable one all the same. It came from a lifetime of having to know what to do when something went wrong. It was his job to make sure his work was worthy of what he was getting paid, usually better. He’d gotten plenty of last second calls about changed dates or unexpected accidents or sudden modifications that he’d managed to help innumerable crews with in exchange for a steadily growing and well-hidden nest egg that really only was spent on new pots when his plants outgrew their old ones and the occasional fancy plant food that he was curious about. Really the only thing he spent money on was his plants if he seriously thought about it. All of his clothes were pretty old, threadbare and occasionally patched, and a lot of them were gifts or things picked up from long forgotten friends. He didn’t really have any use for new stuff, most of his days were spent in his pajamas after all. His computer was almost entirely handmade, put together lovingly with his own two hands, and he hadn’t had to replace or update any parts in a while. Money wasn’t something he thought about much. Most of his job was because he enjoyed the challenge and because he had nothing better to do in all honesty. His job required him to be adaptable, versatile. And so he was.

But he couldn’t be adaptable with the Fake AH Crew. Mostly because it was impossible. Every time he felt like he’d learned, like he’d figured out their quirks and had evolved himself enough to understand, something changed or he became privy to some new fact, turning everything on its head.

For starters, he was only sort of right when he’d thought that maybe Jack was the true shadow leader of the Fake AH Crew. It was more along the lines of Geoff running the crew, Geoff coming up with all of the ideas, and Jack working out all the rest. Geoff was the instigator and Jack was the enabler. Ryan wasn’t soon going to forget the time they were all sitting watching the news and Geoff had randomly, and rather drunkenly, said that he wanted to get a bunch of monster trucks and race them up Chiliad. Ryan had brushed it off as yet another dumb idea made up under the influence of alcohol, had missed the way the others smiled and turned their eyes to Jack, who rolled her own with a sigh, pulling out her phone and sticking her feet in Geoff’s lap to massage in return for what she was tapping away on the screen. A week later Ryan was curled up on his chair in his pajamas hooked into the camera feed of one of Jack’s (apparently numerous) helicopters, watching three seemingly indestructible monster trucks and one ugly little smart car trek up the mountain. He listened to the laughter and jeers through a set of headphones, seeing no reason to wear an earpiece when he was still bundled up inside because there was literally no way in hell they could convince him to do something so dangerous. Quietly though, he enjoyed hearing Gavin’s (he’d learned all their names) bright manic giggling as it echoed through his ears, safely where no one could see him blush and squirm. One busted little smart car and a lot of laughs later, he watched the fireworks light up the sky from his window and wondered if life was always going to be this fun now.

One of the things he was amazed about though was how quickly they convinced him to move in. He liked his apartment, he liked the view and the solitude, but soon enough he was spending so much time at the penthouse that it just wasn’t economical and it certainly wasn’t nice to his plants. Now that he was actually working for them as a crewmember, something he still wasn’t sure he’d actually agreed to with his words, he was a lot busier than he had been before. Even if it wasn’t something like a heist, there was little shit or shenanigans that needed his help. Once he just got called over because Michael’s computer wouldn’t start and none of them could figure out why and after he figured that out he wound up staying for games and then dinner and then it was late and he was tired and just wound up falling asleep on the couch. He woke up in his room at the penthouse. The others claimed Jack had carried him there. He wasn’t entirely sure they were making up, and it was proved that they _weren’t_ when he personally witnessed her pick up Geoff and carry him off to the bathroom over her shoulder while he bitched both about his bullet wound and the shame she was giving him by treating him in such a way. She had just called him a baby and dropped his ass on the countertop inside. And these little occurrences just kept happening until he was spending an average of three or four days a week at the penthouse and kept coming home feeling guilty about how droopy some of his plants were starting to look. His move started with him showing up at the penthouse the next time he was called over with Edgar tucked carefully in his arms, blushing a little when Michael burst out laughing at the sight of the orchid’s name carefully written on the pot. That was the day that it came out that yes, all of his plants had names, shut up. Merciless teasing from Geoff and Michael aside, he couldn’t help feeling grateful when, the fourth time he brought over a plant, Jack offered to help him move them to his room. She was the only one he trusted not to drop or mess with any of them. Jack showed him a shiny new truck she owned and they carefully moved all his plants down into it. She was a very careful and talented driver when she wasn’t trying to scare his socks off and he thanked her profusely later for the fact that his plants had a gentle ride to the penthouse. His computer having already made the trip weeks before, it was only a matter of time before his clothes and rest of his minimal belongings followed. He bought Mrs. Johnson a cart in apology for no longer being there to help with her groceries, but she’d just smiled and waved him off. He’d left it with her anyways. The lads, as the three youngest members of the main group called themselves, bought him a venus flytrap as a form of housewarming gift despite the fact that five other people were already technically living in the house they were trying to warm. All three were practically coated in glitter due to the name they’d carefully had made on the side of the pot, an attempt at a joke that fell flat for them and amazing for the others when Ryan decided not only did he like the glittery name as much as his normal careful sharpie-ing, he liked the name too. Flynt Coal was kind of a badass name for a plant that ate stuff after all. Gavin threw glitter at everyone in response, cackling loudly at the expression on Geoff’s face because Geoff’s moustache was glittering now and the crime lord looked ready to strangle him. He didn’t though, because even Geoff wasn’t crazy enough to try to even playfight with the most dangerous man in Los Santos.

Gavin wore glittery facepaint for a month after that just to piss him off more.

And that was something Ryan wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to. Gavin wore his facepaint under his mask, claiming something about ‘a second layer of anonymity’. He didn’t push, but sometimes he wondered why Gavin would need that. But even when he wasn’t wearing the mask, even when he was just dicking around the penthouse, Ryan never saw him without the facepaint. It changed, sure, the glitter incident was a show enough of that, and now and again Gavin would try something new, but it always came circling back to that same basic design that Ryan still kept getting a very awkward boner for. He wondered what his face looked like beneath it all. What was it covering? He knew that Gavin had a face, which seemed like a weird concept but he may have tried Ray’s weed once and it had come up and Ray had laughed and laughed until Ryan was worried he would die of asphyxiation, but he really only knew that because he’d seen it smeared once and there had been a hint of surprisingly tan flesh beneath. But he wasn’t sure if there was something else beneath the whites and reds and blacks. Was there something that Gavin was trying to hide? Or maybe he just liked it. He wouldn’t put it behind the Brit. Gavin had teasingly offered to paint his face once to see how it felt but Ryan had chickened out, unsure if he would be able to manage feeling Gavin’s fingers dragging over his skin without doing something _monumentally_ stupid. And while Ryan had managed to relax around and even befriend the other members of the crew, he couldn’t fucking handle being around Gavin for long periods of time without getting jittery and nervous, stumbling over his words even more. Times where he had to usually ended with him locking himself in his room for a few hours afterwards to just detox and maybe occasionally jerk off in shame. There were times where he locked himself away even without the added stress of the resident mercenary, far too used to spending his life alone to always be able to handle suddenly being around five others on a regular basis. He was immensely grateful that they didn’t question it when he got overwhelmed like that. Ray even dropped by his room once to give him a spare DS and Ryan had quickly fallen in love with the world of Animal Crossing. Then the hooded had given him a spare copy of a Pokemon game and it was all over. There was many a day where the only person who Ryan would allow into his room when he was having a detox time was Ray, who would just flop across his bed and play on his DS until Ryan felt relaxed enough to join him in the worlds of strange creatures for a while. He really fucking appreciated Ray some days. Even if he did occasionally scare the shit out of Ryan by doing some insane fucking nonsense while escaping the cops, when Ryan could only try to keep up with him on the various CCTV cameras throughout the city, the youngest of the crew barely catching rooftops and windowsills as he parkoured through the city, the only indication he had that he was fine otherwise being the grunt of a landing that followed the dumb deadpan ‘parkour’ Ray insisted on saying every time he made a jump. Also when had he graduated from hacker to overseer? He wasn’t sure, but Ray’s adrenaline-fueled adventures were arguably as aggravating as Michael’s insistence on explosives in the slightest of situations. It was like watching a puppy with something that could literally remove any trace of their bodies from existence. Or when Gavin went deathly quiet and disappeared from any view Ryan had and he could never be sure if it was just because Gavin was doing something that he didn’t want to make a sound doing or if he had vanished off the grid like Geoff used to think he would, or if something had happened and one of them would find him dead and/or bleeding out on the ground. Or worse. The worries that came with Gavin were more terrifying than aggravating really. As bad as he was with Gavin, he didn’t want to imagine him gone.

Because fuck he was still totally gone on Gavin and it only got worse the more time he spent around him. He flushed and fidgeted when he smiled behind the facepaint and remarked on the fact that Ryan was actually pretty tan for a guy who sat in front of a computer, mostly because he never shut his curtains for the sake of his plants. He stuttered over his words when the mercenary sat too close and he occasionally choked on his own breath when Gavin playfully made innuendo with him and the others. He wasn’t good with people, but he was _terrible_ with the man in the paint.

Gavin seemed to pick up on the fact that he was incredibly awkward around him better than the others too, which sucked. The others had long since brushed off his nervousness as being a little scared of Gavin, which he admittedly was, though he wasn’t sure if anyone could ever _not_ be a little scared of Gavin. All the same, despite his teasing and smiles Ryan would occasionally still catch Gavin staring at him with that calculating stare that reminded him that the sometimes whimsical and strange Brit was the same man who he’d literally seen wrap a man’s intestines around his throat like a scarf once. He wasn’t sure what the stare was, but it caught him squarely between turned on and absolutely terrified. Nothing came of it for a few months. Not until Ryan, by some stroke of either massively good or bad luck, wound up alone in the penthouse with Gavin. He’d just stepped out of his room for a snack, rubbing his pudgy little stomach as he debated what to eat because Geoff had flat out _refused_ to have any of his freezer meals in the apartment, claiming that they would taint his kitchen, which left Ryan with either something from the pantry or with maybe leftovers if the others hadn’t already eaten all of them already. His train of thought was derailed when, almost the second his foot hit the wood of the hallway, he was being crowded up against the wall by someone considerably stronger than he was, hands pinning him against the grain by his shoulders. His brain took a second to process what had happened and he blinked a few times before his eyes focused on the face _immediately_ in front of his. He was kind of regretting leaving his glasses at his desk because he really could have used a barrier as he registered the facepaint, fresh and still looking a little bit wet and the blue eyes dark with murderous intent that were glaring straight into his, mouth set in a thin line. The voice that poured from the Brit’s throat like molasses was determined and dark and _fuck_ Ryan was screwed.

“Why’re you here Ryan?”

His mouth fumbled over a response, eventually just giving a weakly confused noise, praying that Gavin wouldn’t notice the fact that he was _blindingly_ hard beneath his baggy pajama bottoms.

“Don’t act dumb Haywood. You’ve been acting jittery for ages now. You’re looking to cash in on one of the bounties I have on my head right? There’s a lot of them and no one would suspect the dorky hacker, yeah? Which one? Start talking or I’m going to have start fucking up that pretty face of yours.”

Ryan struggled to answer, his voice not working past incoherent noises, which left him shaking his head vigorously to try to get across the fact that _no_ , he wasn’t looking for any bounty. He wasn’t looking to hurt Gavin at all. But then a hand closed around his jaw, calloused and scarred fingers just barely on the edge of his throat, and forcefully stilled his skull, forcing him to look directly at the frighteningly calm man again. He couldn’t stop his broken little whimper, legs going a little weak, and the mercenary stilled. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then his stance shifted and suddenly there was a thigh being pushed inexorably between his legs, pushing hard against his erection and dragging another defeated noise kicking and screaming from his throat. Gavin let out a soft ‘oh’ and Ryan instantly wanted to melt into the floor. He shut his eyes, preparing for death and wishing the thought that Gavin could kill him easily right now didn’t turn him on so much.

But then he didn’t die. And Gavin didn’t move. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

The mercenary was grinning, all teeth and predatory intent. The murder in his striking blue orbs was tainted with lust.

“That’s now how this usually goes. But I can work with it.”

Then the hacker was being shoved back through his door, stumbling until his knees hit the edge of his bed, sending him falling back against it. Gavin shut the door and approached, movements smooth and dangerous. He reached the bed and dropped down. Ryan instantly lost the ability to breathe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't much care for the last two chapters. Made up for it by writing a chapter that was longer than both of them combined. Zero regrets.


	6. Date

Ryan didn't expect anything to become of their night alone, really he didn't. He was a realist and Gavin didn't seem like the type of person that would care for a long term relationship. Later in life Gavin would laugh and call him a pessimist, but at this point in time, Ryan considered himself a realist. A realist with a long history of being picked up for a one-night stands and waking up cold and alone. Which is why when he woke up the next morning, sore and content and, most importantly, with his head resting on a warm chest, he was surprised. He debated turning to look, but there was hands in his hair and they were petting him gently and he pretty quickly decided that he was just happy to let that keep happening. He was close to dozing off again when the person he was laying on finally spoke up.

“We should probably get up love. Rest of the crew’ll be back soon and we’re both pretty gammy. Shower’s probably a good idea.”

He made a noncommittal noise but sat up, rubbing dully at his eyes. Gavin smiled at him in amusement.

“You’re cute when you’re all dozy.”

Ryan flushed, fumbling over any chance of a response before simply scooting to the end of the bed and heading for the en suite bathroom. The flush only got worse as he realized that the man still on the bed was admiring the view of his very naked body. The hacker shut the door behind himself, glancing at himself in the mirror as he did so. He looked absolutely wrecked, wild hair only slightly flattened by the petting, hickeys littering his neck and collarbone. Having to glance away before his face overheated, he leaned into the shower and turned it on. He’d barely stepped under the hot spray when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey Ryebread? I’m gonna join you, ‘kay?”

He couldn’t even manage an answer before the equally naked mercenary stepped into the bathroom and immediately hopped in with him the moment the door was shut. The lad pressed himself up against his back, situating himself comfortably against Ryan’s back, but nothing else incredibly untowards happened. Ryan was sort of proud of himself for only fumbling with the soaps once or twice, dropping the bottle only when Gavin slipped sudsy fingers down his back and over his ass, playfully commenting about the night previous and giggling when Ryan let out a startled curse as the soap cracked against the bottom of the shower. Ryan still utterly loved that laugh. Part of him realized that, if he turned around now, Gavin would probably be missing his facepaint, which had been smeared and made messy by Ryan the night previous but had still mostly been there when he stepped into the shower. He didn’t though. It felt wrong.

They dried off in comfortable silence, Gavin leaving him alone after that, trotting out the door utterly naked to go get clothes from his own room, Ryan keeping his eyes respectfully averted from his face. And despite having had his expectations of being treated like one-night stand defied twice now, he was still amazed when the mercenary flopped down beside him on the couch, facepaint reapplied and wearing a fresh clean shirt. All the same, he didn’t protest when the Brit slung an arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer, easily shifting to he was resting his head in his lap. The hacker sighed happily when the calloused hands from earlier worked their way back into his hair, earning a little laugh. For a while, Ryan just enjoyed the gentle affection, soaking in it like a kitten.

“I wanna take you out on a date Ry. Is that alright?”

He blinked open his eyes, looking up to Gavin who was staring down at him with the same intensity that he gave a target, mouth set in a flat line that masked any emotion that may have tied to the words. Ryan was starting to think it wasn’t a conscious decision from him to pull that face.

“...Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re cute and you’re sweet and you’re a nice lay and now that I’m sure you aren’t going to kill me, I’d like to do all the dumb relationship stuff with you. Court you like a proper lady and all that.”

That earned a laugh from Ryan, something that earned him a broad grin, all teeth but no intent.

“Yeah Gavin, I’d like that.”

“Top. I’m just gonna keep petting you for a while now though.”

“I’m okay with that.”

And so he did. Ryan dozed off again sometime later, the rest of the crew having returned by the time he woke up. Jack snapped a few photos with her phone and the rest teased them both a little, Ryan for how adorable he was apparently being and Gavin, the supposedly implacable mercenary, for going all gooey and sweet over their gentle hacker. Ryan tucked his face into Gavin’s muscled stomach and Gavin threatened to murder them all in their sleep and it was good. It was really good.

Two weeks later, Ryan figured out where Gavin was taking him for his date about ten minutes before Gavin came to ask him. Mostly because he could hear Michael’s laughter through half the penthouse and his headphones, voice a little shrill as he mocked Gavin for something so cliche. Ryan mused about how no one else would dare tease the murderous Vav the way that the crew did. He was pretty sure it was because they knew he would never hurt them. At any rate, the Brit opened the door to his room soon after, still a little red from indignation as he asked if Ryan was okay with dinner and a movie later that night. And he was, he absolutely was.

Jack insisted on helping him get dressed, mostly because he was pretty much intending on just wearing the clothes he had on him at that point in time. He questioned the fashion sense of a woman who nearly daily wore shorts and ugly hawaiian shirts; she smacked him upside the head for it. Ray sprawled over his bed, offering unhelpful advice without looking up from his DS. At the end of it though, Jack had gotten him into a nice set of slacks and a button-down, even allowing him to throw on one of his sweaters over the top despite complaints from everyone but him that it was a ‘dad sweater’. She’d even yanked him down to her level and combed out his hair, complaining that he needed to get it cut while she put it into a neat little bun. He promised to do so at a later date, though he probably wouldn’t manage it for a while. It was easier to just let it grow out and stick it in a messy ponytail then actually go and get it done.

At the end of it all though, he had to admit he looked pretty good. Jack-tested and Ray-approved, he straightened his sweater nervously and went to go sit on the couch to wait. Gavin and Geoff returned from the deal they’d been at soon after and Geoff shoved him past the living room before he could catch a glimpse of the nervous hacker, shouting at him to shower. He grumbled but went to go do so, Geoff instead detouring to sit on the couch semi-across from Ryan. Thankfully, he only stared at the poor awkward man for a minute before saying what he had to say.

“You’re cool doing this Ryan? I mean, Gav’s a good guy at heart and I know he means well but you aren’t just doing this because he asked, right?”

Ryan was shaking his head almost instantly, reassuring Geoff that he was completely okay with the date. Geoff grinned.

“I figured, but I’m an old bitch and I worry about you assholes.”

He took the appreciation for what it was. They settled into silence, watching the news until there was the sound of quickly approaching footsteps in a staccato that was only capable by one person. Ryan stood and turned so they could leave as soon as Gavin appeared from the hallway. He was five steps from the couch when he did so, and they both froze, staring at each other. Gavin managed to speak first.

“You look really hot.”

He nodded dully, processing still.

“You too.”

And wasn’t that just the dumbest thing to say? But he did. Gavin had swapped out his normal outfit for one similar but considerably nicer. He’d even managed to tame his wild mop of hair relatively well. But what caught and stunned Ryan was the fact that Gavin _wasn’t wearing any facepaint_. His face was completely unpainted, still a little ruddy from the shower heat but otherwise unaltered. And he was really fucking hot.

Geoff gagged from his spot on the couch.

“You’re both sickening. Get out of here.”

Gavin snapped out of his trance first, stepping forward to take the still vaguely stunned Ryan’s hand and lead him from the penthouse. He led him into the elevator, leaning against the back wall as it silently slid down the levels.

“Jack gave me the scary parent speech about treating you right, just so you know.”

Ryan laughed. Gavin basked in the sound.

What followed was probably the most perfect date the shy hacker had ever been on. The movie was funny and the restaurant was amazing and Gavin was a lot smoother than he was, but he managed not to fuck it up either so that was good. And the best part was that the mercenary barely let go of his hand the whole night, tangling their fingers together at almost every opportunity and admiring the way that the elder man flushed and stumbled over his words when he squeezed his soft hands. The lad decided he liked the feel of the big awkward hands, gentle with callouses just on the tips where they hit the keyboard, so different from his own, slender and hard and soaked in blood. The only bad thought that passed either of their minds that entire night was Gavin’s alone, that someone like Ryan didn’t deserve to get hurt the way he would when retribution finally caught up to the Brit. But he was selfish, and so he shoved it away.

By the time they finally got back to the penthouse it was late and everyone else was either out or asleep. Gavin walked Ryan to his room like a proper gentleman, admiring the way that Ryan fumbled his way over an attempt to invite Gavin into his room. The mercenary laughed and silenced the words with an all-consuming kiss before letting Ryan lead him inside.

And if the next morning the rest of the crew complained and teased and offered to buy Ryan’s room some soundproofing, well that was just the way things went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like someone ripped out my insides and replaced them with cotton from the sheer amount of fluff that this chapter was. I regret nothing. Nerds on dates for the win.  
> Also it is move-in week so sorry if the chapters aren't daily for a while. I dunno how many will be left anyways.


	7. Hearts

Dating Los Santos’s most dangerous criminal in its most prolific crew had its perks, Ryan wasn’t going to lie about that. As much as he hated going out, whenever Gavin took him on a date it was always amazing and there was always a table. They always got the best seats at the movies. So what if Gavin maybe killed a person or two when they got in the way? He wasn’t going to complain. Which, honestly, he should have been worried about that. Lack of empathy was never a good sign. But maybe he was just used to it. Numbness was a thing and that was what he was going with. Not the fact that Gavin looked really hot when he got all murdery and bloody. Definitely not that.

All the same though, Ryan still hated leaving the penthouse. So a lot of their time was spent lounging around there. There was plenty of teasing from the others but it was all in good fun. Gavin claimed, much to the hacker’s embarrassment, that they were just jealous of how hot his boyfriend was and how nice his moaning was. The crew actually had been serious about the soundproofing though, which made his room a weird amalgamation of sunlit plants and black foam walls. Which they had to keep replacing. Because him and Gavin kept putting holes through the stuffing for various reasons, almost all of them including sex and the others having to do with his plants. Gavin actually spent more time with Ryan in his room than in his own, almost to the level where Ryan was starting to think about just suggesting he move into his room. It wasn’t like Gavin had that much in terms of items. He, much like the antisocial hacker, pretty much had the same five shirts in various colors and just as many jeans. However, Gavin actually pulled off his outfits, Ryan just pulled a sweater over the top. He could understand it from Gavin’s point of view though. It made it easy to replace shirts if the blood couldn’t be washed out. But outside of that limited wardrobe, Gavin didn’t really have any trinkets. All his guns were kept in safe storage throughout the penthouse aside from the ridiculously ugly gold pistol that Gavin had gotten as a joke and wound up falling in love with. Ryan wasn’t allowed to touch any of the guns that any of them owned after he proved how terrible of a fucking shot he was to them. Geoff was still bitching about the hole in the wall. It would probably be better for all of them.

But back on topic, there was literally nothing stopping Gavin from officially sharing a bedroom with him. Gavin had even picked up on taking care of his pets, though Gavin played favorites, which was utterly unfair. His favorite was a virginia creeper that had spread over a bit of false fencing that had been named Grisham. He didn’t even love Flynt Coal as much as he loved Grisham, which was dumb because Flynt Coal needed actual flies that Gavin needed to bring and also who played favorites with plants that all needed care? When he brought that up, Gavin pointed out the place of honor that Edgar had on Ryan’s desk. Ray, who had been on his bed (and really, what a brave soul for risking laying on it. None of the others would) playing his DS had joked about mom and dad arguing in front of their plant children. That had shut them both up but Ryan still liked to think he’d won the argument because Gavin brought flies for Flynt Coal the next day. And it was all nice and good and a little silly and Ryan kind of loved it.

Which was why he tried his best not to freak out the morning before their first big heist since they started dating. He shifted to burrow his face in Gavin’s taut stomach, nose burying itself amongst the dense curls there. Gavin sighed above him, carding his hand through the hacker’s hair.

“It’ll be fine love. You never worried before.”

Ryan’s response was muffled but no less petulant. He wormed his arms around Gavin’s waist to hug himself tighter against the Brit, earning a chuckle that vibrated through him and into the soft fuzzy part of Ryan’s soul.

“Yes I did. I’m just worried more now.”

“I’ll come back Ryebread. I always do.”

“I know.”

That didn’t make him let go and the mercenary didn’t try to make him, not until Jack knocked on the door and told them to get dressed and ready. Gavin gave the tangled remains of his ponytail a gentle tug, continuing to do so until he pulled away with a groan. His murderous boyfriend gave a throaty chuckle, tugging him in for a kiss before rolling off the bed.

“C’mon Rye. Sooner the heist is underway the sooner I can get back an’ I can fuck you through the wall in celebration, yeah?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, smiling now too. Gavin flashed him a grin with too many teeth and bounded out the door, earning a few shouts at him to ‘put some fucking clothes on’. Feeling a little lighter, Ryan got out of bed a few minutes later and tugged on a pair of pajama pants. He wasn’t going to be with them, he didn’t see the point of putting on legitimate clothing just to stay inside. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he decided to throw on a sweater as well. The crew had complained the last time he’d walked around topless, not due to his figure but more due to the fact that Gavin was very much into marking up Ryan’s too pale flesh. Michael had said that the cops could get a full dental impression for the infamous Vav just from the hickeys and bites on their awkward hacker’s skin. Ryan didn’t really feel the need to tell them that Ryan was as much of an enabler as Gavin was an instigator. Some things deserved to be kept private, at least until Gavin decided he wanted to traumatize the others.

Smiling to himself, Ryan padded out to the main room, the others already there. He immediately flopped down beside his boyfriend, allowing himself to be pulled against him as they listened to Geoff ramble off an overview of the heist for them again, making sure everyone knew what part they had to play. Gavin’s face was painted, as artistically hasty and chaotic as always. He’d let Ryan do it a few times but his fingers were still a little awkward and clumsy with the paints and they needed to get on the road fairly soon, so it was understandable.

“Alright dicks, let’s get moving.”

They all pushed to their feet in relative unison. Gavin planted a final kiss on Ryan before the hacker retreated to his room. He flopped into his seat, putting his headphones on as he got settled. Immediately his ears and mind were filled with the sounds of them and it was strangely soothing, hearing them as calm and joking as always. He heard the distinctive horn of the Roosevelt beneath it all, shaking his head as he pulled up the camera feed of the federal warehouse they were hitting. Apparently there was gold inside and Geoff wanted something to show up his friend Heyman back in Liberty City, who apparently had a gold brick. Ryan wasn’t entirely certain what Heyman did. Geoff had shrugged when he asked. Thoughts for another time though. Right then, he had a heist to survey. There was a whoop of laughter, bright and loud and clearly Michael along with that ridiculous beep. The cameras were good, there wasn’t any delay as the equally ridiculous car came fishtailing to a stop before the warehouse, the crew piling out with all the manic glee of a sugar highed children on Halloween. Ryan flipped to the cameras inside to keep an eye on his crew.

Despite his worries, the heist went off without a hitch. Or rather, with as little of a hitch as could be managed when the Fake AH Crew was the one running the show. Part of the building may have gotten slightly blown up, but no one had anything worse than a scratch, so it was fine. More importantly, they got the gold. And it really wasn’t what Ryan expected. When they found it, Geoff held it up towards the nearest camera for him to see. Four perfect cubes of gold, fairly hefty from the way the tuxedoed boss was bitching, alongside a black stand for each. Three of the stands were lost to the cause, damaged when the building did its slight collapsing. Geoff just joked that they would stack them up. There didn’t seem to be any plan to sell the blocks, not with how they were all admiring them.

The real adventure didn’t come until the trip back, all of the five in the car caked in varying layers of concrete dust and blood. Ryan had started to zone out, relaxing in the post-heist glee that even he could feel when there was suddenly a commotion, the crew shouting over each other with Michael being the loudest.

“Get back here you dumb fuck!”

Ryan yanked his mic back down to his face.

“What happened?”

“Gavin just jumped out of the fucking car.”

“I’m _sorry?_ ”

“You heard me.”

Then another voice joined the commotion.

“I’m fine love! Micoo’s wouldn’t slow down s’all! I need to do something real fast!”

“Gavin-”

“I’ll catch up don’t worry!”

Then his end went dead. There was a chorus of groans, more exasperated than anything, and so Ryan let himself worry just a little bit less. Sometimes his boyfriend was kind of an idiot, he needed to remember that.

He wondered a little if Gavin would be contesting with any road burns when he got back. It was sure to make his promise a little harder to fufill.

The rest of the crew returned a little while later, standing still long enough for Ryan to glance over them, knowing he would worry if they were hurt more than the cameras had shown. They weren’t though. He relaxed a little more when Gavin came barging through the door half an hour later. Immediately Ryan was at his side, checking him over and fighting the urge to smack him upside the head for _jumping out of the moving vehicle_. The mercenary just grinned.

“Aww Rye, but then I couldn’t give you your present!”

He held up his clutched hand, letting the fingers loosen enough to let a little pendant fall from them. It was pricey, a carefully carved gemstone inlaid in vines of gold, the color a gentle pinkish red. It was half a heart. Gavin pulled the other half out from his shirt, already latched around his neck.

For a minute, all Ryan could do was stare. He’d jumped out of a car to buy them half-heart pendants like a couple of sappy teenagers. A little giggle escaped his chest and he smiled, turning to let Gavin clasp it around his neck. The hacker turned back, planting a kiss on his lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I absolutely do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So college started. Have this as my apology for taking so long because of said fact.


	8. Adventures

Time slipped by, as it was wont to do, but they didn’t mind. The world was perfect, spinning on its end, over and over ad infinitum, and upon it, the Fake AH Crew ruled their city. There were ups and downs, sure, but it always turned out alright in the end. Things happened, unexpected things both good and bad, but nothing could tear them down. They wouldn’t let it. That didn’t mean though, that it wasn’t an adventure when it did.

One of those adventures was when Gavin came stomping into their (now shared) bedroom and threw himself onto the bed, whining about how Michael _sucked_. Ryan watched him for a second, a little bemused and wondering how his past self had _ever_ been scared of the man currently sprawled out on their bed like a toddler having a temper tantrum, getting more of his facepaint on the sheets than usual. Granted most of the crew was still lowkey afraid of him, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. He hummed in sympathy when that second was up, moving from his desk to sit atop the sheets, having to put a decent amount of effort into tugging his boyfriend up enough that he could snuggle him. This is why he was generally the little spoon. Trying to shift around someone who was like 80% pure muscle kinda sucked, even when they were shorter and slimmer than you. Muscle was dense dammit! But sometimes Gavin needed big cuddly snuggles and Ryan was more than happy to give them. He settled in, waiting patiently for his boyfriend’s ranting to get to to the point where he would actually explain why he was so pissy. The reason, as it turned out, was that he’d lost a bet with Michael about said explosives expert about his ability to throw knives. Turns out Michael could. Not amazingly well, but enough to completely fuck Gavin on the bet. Ryan, trying to be helpful in his awkward way, began to mumble about the physics of knife-throwing and different techniques and blades and history, all things he’d picked up from a life spent buried deep in the data of the internet, fingers gently playing across Gavin’s arms, tracing the crimes that a life on the streets created.

Smiling warmly and feeling a little bit better with his lovely boyfriend’s attempts to comfort, the Brit playfully asserted that if Ryan knew so much about them, he should try for real. They had laughed, and Gavin felt better.

A few days later it came up at random when Michael was teasing Gavin about the lost bet. And the others, being the others, proceeded to bother them about it until Ryan agreed to try, though he did give them fair warning that it could turn out _exactly_ like how it had when they made him show them just how bad he was with a gun. He’d even gestured to the still unpatched hole in the wall a few times for emphasis. They just took shelter a safe distance away.

As it turned out though, they needn’t have worried. Because Ryan was fucking _brilliant_ at throwing knives. Even he looked fairly shocked when the knife embedded itself almost inside the bullet hole, a practical bullseye. They’d immediately supplied him with more knives and despite the fact that the wall was just getting more and more beat up, Ryan almost never missed where they told him to aim. He cited his knowledge. They claimed magic. Both were acceptable explanations. And it was fun. A lot of fun. Ryan may have also liked feeling like he was a little bit less useless in terms of defense at the very least, but he didn’t say that out loud.

There were many more little adventures such as this, things learnt and things taken and destroyed. Heists went wrong, deals turned sour, bullets were dug from sides and wounds were patched with gentle kisses and antiseptic. Screams echoed through the penthouse, painful and hollow, more than once. People were hurt, some were killed, but those that mattered to them were alright in the end, so it really didn’t matter. As long as they were together, as long as their family was together, it would always turn out okay. Ryan was sure of it, and so was Gavin.

And fuck if they were not going to keep it that way.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have ended it last chapter but I didn't and so you guys get something short and sweet to round it out. But fret not! There are more things in the works for this series and this universe as a whole.   
> Come hit me up on tumblr to talk about them or see how they're coming along! There's a lot of other fics and headcanons and other stuff there too!  
> I hope to keep writing more of this cute ass shit and keep you guys happy. :3


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